Billion Dollar Beast - Olivia Hayle Page 0,2
Nick does the most amazing thing. He puts a hand on my low back, like it belongs there, as if he touches me all the time—as if this isn’t the first time we’ve touched since we shook hands eight years ago.
He bends down. “Look up at me,” he instructs. “Laugh as if you enjoy talking to me.”
“Why?” I hiss back.
Brief hesitation. “I’ll owe you one.”
“Whatever I want?”
Longer hesitation this time. “Within reason, yes.”
I turn on my biggest smile, then. The one that stretches wide and reaches my eyes. It’s my killer mingling smile, the one I only pull out when I really need to pack a punch. “Fifteen minutes,” I say, batting my eyelashes. “Start the timer.”
Nick blinks once. Twice. Then he gives a subtle nod to a few men standing not too far from us, drinks in hand.
“See the one with glasses?”
“Yes.”
His hand drifts higher, flattening against my back. The touch is warm even through the fabric of my dress. “I’m going to talk to him, and I want you by my side as I do.”
“Pretending to like you.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Need to know basis, honey,” he says sweetly. The endearment sounds mocking from him.
“All right, sugar muffin,” I respond just as tartly. “Fourteen minutes left.”
He grits his teeth audibly at that.
The men look up as we approach, their conversation abruptly dying.
“Mr. Park,” the man in glasses says. His tone is cold. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Last-minute invite,” Nick says, an odd tone in his voice. Is that… gentleness? He must be trying to win points here somehow. “This is Blair Porter.”
I extend a hand, still smiling widely. “A pleasure to meet you all.”
They introduce themselves. “I’ve met your brother a few times,” the man in glasses—Mr. Adams—says. “Lovely guy.”
I resist the urge to glance at Nick. So that’s why I’m here, smiling at him. He’s using me in all of my trophy invitedness. “Yes, he is,” I say, leaning into Nick’s side. “Despite being friends with this one.”
They laugh at my joke and Nick is forced to join in. The pressure of his hand on my back increases in a not so subtle warning to behave. Idiot, I think. I just made you look more likeable.
“That’s right,” Nick says. “We’ve known each other for what, eight years now, Blair?”
“Something like that,” I say.
The shorter of the three men smiles at me. “I hope you’ll stay long enough to meet my wife. She’s around here somewhere, and she reads every style interview you give.”
“That’s lovely,” I say warmly. “I’d love to meet her.”
Nick clears his throat and I tear my gaze away to look up at him expectantly, forcing friendliness into my gaze.
“Enjoying the time away from Seattle?” Nick’s question is open-ended, but his entire body language is focused on Mr. Adams. Subtle, I think, wondering how Nick would react to my hand on his back in warning.
“I am, yes,” Mr. Adams says. “Some time away can be good. Clears the head.”
Nick nods gravely. “Lends itself to making excellent decisions.”
“This is not the place to discuss business,” Mr. Adams retorts. The two men at his side both look away, clearly uncomfortable with the turn of conversation. Nick is tense beside me.
This won’t do.
I put a hand on his arm affectionately, looking over at Mr. Adams with a smile. “Even at a wedding,” I say, making my voice light. “Can you believe it? It’s impossible to get this guy to relax!”
Nick sighs. “About as impossible as you walking past a store without purchasing anything.”
“Well, we all have our vices,” I tease, my wide smile still in place. “I’m sorry we bothered you.”
“Not at all,” Mr. Adams says. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Porter.”
“Likewise.”
The three men stroll on, leaving Nick and I to revel in our peaceful, friendly bliss. I hit his arm.
“What the hell was that for?”
“You call me a trophy guest, someone invited here for appearance’s sake, and then you use me in just the same way?”
There’s no remorse or denial in Nick’s eyes. Just sly calculation. “You did well.”
“I was coerced.”
“No, you weren’t. Now I owe you one.” He speaks the words with obvious distaste.
I put my hands on my hips. “So you’re what? Trying to take over his company? Buy out his board? Tank his stocks?”
Nick narrows his eyes at me. “You don’t need to know,” he says, articulating every word.
I flick my hair over my shoulder and feel a faint sense of triumph as his eyes track the movement. “Well, that was the first and